


Though You're Already Gone

by edenbound



Category: The Dark Is Rising
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-04
Updated: 2010-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-07 00:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenbound/pseuds/edenbound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're going to get covered in grass strains, but it's not like they care very much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Though You're Already Gone

**Author's Note:**

> For the TDIR fans on my flist who have not been getting much love since Supernatural swallowed me whole. Frantic exploratory first time ish Will/Bran. With angst, because this is me and I'm writing Will/Bran, so you know it's coming. Title from Karine Polwart's [Terminal Star](http://www.allthelyrics.com/lyrics/karine_polwart/terminal_star-lyrics-1205286.html).

"You're going to have me covered in grass stains," Bran says, from underneath Will. There is not much complaint in his voice -- or interest at all, for that matter. His eyes are narrowed as he attacks Will's shirt, attacking buttons and then giving in, shoving it up so that it bunches awkwardly under Will's arms. It doesn't really matter that much, at least as far as Bran is concerned, because he's got what he wants. He spreads his hands, like he's trying to touch as much of Will as he can.

Will doesn't really bother with an answer, pinning Bran's shoulders to try and stop some of his movement, because the wriggling around is getting in the way of one of the most important things in this whole equation -- Bran's mouth. "Quit squirming, then," he says, and stops all protest with his mouth, with his hands digging up under Bran's shirt as well.

"Hurry up and _do_ something then," Bran says, half-breathless, half-muffled by Will's kisses.

"We're going to get caught like this."

"Not if you _hurry up_," Bran says, rolling them over in Will's moment of weakness and hesitation, pinning him down. He's less interested in Will's mouth, more curious about the skin exposed -- he twists, leans down, mouths over Will's ribs, licking lines over the bone, just wanting to touch and learn as much as possible. He runs his hands roughly up, notes the gasp when he scrapes one of Will's nipples with a nail and leans up to follow with his mouth, tongue and teeth, hurried and a little rough.

"Bran," Will says, breathlessly, one hand on his body and the other clenching, now, in his hair. Bran thinks, dizzily, that he'd intended to get a haircut, sometime soon, because it's ridiculous and starting to flop into his eyes like Will's -- but Will's hand in it, clenching, tugging, that's oddly good and maybe he'll have to keep his hair long enough for this. He presses hard against Will, sucking now, making Will pant. Moves to suck marks into his skin too, mindless and possessive. Will's skin doesn't mark as easily as his, but Bran leaves his marks anyway, teeth and suction, and Will doesn't seem to have any complaints. "Bran, let me -- "

"What? What do you -- oh," Bran says, and breaks off, eyes wide, because Will hauled him up a bit and reached for him -- cupped him, squeezed, and now he's fighting with his belt and Bran whimpers, drops his head to Will's shoulder. "Okay, yes, let me -- Will, please, don't -- "

"I won't stop," Will says, and Bran opens his eyes to check there's no smugness in his face, finds only wonder. Will gets his belt open, opens his pants too, shoves his hand inside and wraps his hand around Bran's cock, and Bran can't help but whimper and kiss him. He jerks against Will when he squeezes, knows there must be colour in his face, that his mouth is stupidly open now he's not kissing Will.

"Will -- "

"Won't stop," Will says again, just as breathless and open-mouthed, his kisses clumsy, not all of them landing on Bran's mouth. "This is the first time I -- "

"Me too," Bran says, and then starts to struggle with Will's belt too, because he has to make sure Will knows what he's doing to Bran -- make him feel this too, make him reel with it, dizzy and stupid. "Want to -- "

"_Yes_," Will says, eagerly, his free hand in Bran's hair again, tugging. More kissing, breathing each other's hair, holding on tight. Bran digs his fingers into Will's side, strokes him rough and quick, and Will matches it -- more than matches it, he's driving Bran fucking _crazy_, his hand feels so good, just rough enough, just tight enough. Bran bites at Will's shoulder to keep silent, comes into his hand stunningly fast. He barely has enough focus to keep touching Will, but Will's doing most of the work anyway, pushing up into his hand, straining. He's moaning in Bran's ear, maybe even saying something, but it doesn't make sense and Bran doesn't need it to.

"Come on," he whispers, kissing, biting, mouth and free hand everywhere. He jerks back suddenly, knowing he wants to see Will -- see it when Will --

"Bran," Will whispers back, strained, desperate, and then a soft cry that Bran has to muffle, clapping his hand over Will's mouth, because if they get caught -- if someone sees --

"Grass stains all over both of us now," Bran says, when he's got some sense back, looking down at the two of them -- Will's skin marked up by his mouth, their come smeared between them, on his hands. He feels an absurd urge to laugh.

"Handkerchief in my pocket," Will says, still all breathless, still so _sensible_ even given what they just did. Bran fishes it out, cleans both of them up, tries to ignore the way his hands are shaking. Will's watching him, awful and reverent again, and Bran wants to turn away from it.

"Why do you look at me like that?" he asks, instead. Will looks up at him for a moment longer and then shakes his head, pulls Bran down against him. Their belts are undone, still, buckles digging into soft flesh, but Bran decides it doesn't matter, blanketing Will with his body, because in that moment he thought he saw the deepest sorrow in the world, a sadness that he didn't think he was equal to driving away -- a horrible _loneliness_. "I won't leave you," he said, helpless and angry.

"I know," Will says, but it sounds like he's saying _you already did_, instead, and Bran doesn't understand and he hates it and he presses close and digs his fingers in hard, so that Will knows he's there, so he'll carry the marks for a day or two, a reminder.


End file.
